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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25923043">I swallow your heart and it crawls right out of my mouth.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildlyJourneyed/pseuds/WildlyJourneyed'>WildlyJourneyed</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Difference, Feminization, Knifeplay, M/M, a little blood play, as a treat, here u go brian thanks for paying me to fucking attack u, these two are so fucked up ahhhh, thigh fucking</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:02:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,535</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25923043</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildlyJourneyed/pseuds/WildlyJourneyed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Asphodel wonders if there’s a similar phrase to ‘when the other shoe drops’ that pertains to gloves instead, but that only lasts as long as it takes for Rowan’s free hand to return to his neck.  This time the press of the knife is much thinner, much lighter.  His body locks up.</p><p>“Now imagine how I felt knowing someone else was spilling your blood.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rowan/Asphodel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I swallow your heart and it crawls right out of my mouth.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeviousMachinations/gifts">DeviousMachinations</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Again.”  Rowan’s order is clear, voice crisp despite the sweat staining the collar of his shirt.  Asphodel barely bites back a grimace and he lunges forward—again—knife held the way Rowan taught him to but his feet are still too unsteady, his stance weaker than before.  He’s exhausted; Rowan has to know that.  He’s easily swept to the side, barely managing to keep standing this time as Rowan throws him off the attack.  His voice breaks on a swear and he hurls the knife to the floor, watching the sheen of it flicker as it bounces over the mats.</p><p>“Please, I need a break.”  Asp says, not quite begging but he can’t help looking at Rowan through his lashes.  He knows it won’t work, even though there’s sweat dripping from his hairline and his t-shirt is drenched.  Asphodel isn’t sure if his body can actually withstand another round.  As expected, Rowan’s lip curls slightly in a derisive sneer.</p><p>“Did you have a break when you were abducted from under my nose?”  Months later, it’s still a sore point.  Asp closes his eyes and breathes out, resigned.  In that moment Rowan moves.  The only warning the blond has is the sound of rustling clothes and it’s just enough, barely enough, for him to panic and remember that he’d thrown his knife to the floor.  Stupid.</p><p>Their height difference is a scant two inches but Rowan’s hands are <em>huge</em>, and they wrap around Asphodel’s body like he’s a fucking twig.  On instinct he freezes, waiting as Rowan pulls up flush to his back, one hand sprawled over his stomach and the other climbing up his throat.  There’s a blunt pressure beneath his adam’s apple, and Asp knows he’s been caught out.  The blade against his neck is dull, a practice knife not meant to hurt, but the pressure has him sucking in a breath.  Anticipatory.  His fingers raise to ghost over Rowan’s wrists and the false knife bites deeper.</p><p>“Imagine that this is sharp enough to make you bleed.”  Rowan’s lips brush against his ear, his voice low and quiet.  The hand on Asphodel’s stomach starts to slide lower and Asp can’t help it, he whimpers.  Those lips part against his ear, maybe a smile, maybe a threat.  He’s never really been able to tell with Rowan.  Both, usually.  Dull metal falls away as Rowan’s other hand finally settles on Asp’s hip, crossed over him in a way that keeps him pinned, his back to Rowan’s chest.</p><p>Asphodel wonders if there’s a similar phrase to ‘when the other shoe drops’ that pertains to gloves instead, but that only lasts as long as it takes for Rowan’s free hand to return to his neck.  This time the press of the knife is much thinner, much lighter.  His body locks up.</p><p>“Now imagine how I felt knowing someone else was spilling your blood.”  Rowan’s voice is nearly a growl, the rumble of it so deep in his throat that Asp can almost feel the vibration.  He shivers at that, half turned on and half terrified. He doesn’t need to imagine how Rowan felt at that time, he’d seen it first hand.  The knife being held at his throat now is a real one, the one Rowan keeps on his person at all times, one that Asp has felt against his skin before.   The knife pulls away and Asp realizes he’d stopped breathing.</p><p>The second he takes a breath, Rowan is sweeping his feet out from under him.  The mats are there to lessen the impact from falls but it still <em>hurts</em>, and Asp cries out as he hits the floor.  He rolls over only to find Rowan coming down to lean over him, his button down shirt half undone and his hazel eyes blown dark with how wide his pupils are.  Asphodel wheezes out a curse, unamused but too uncertain to push any of Rowan’s buttons.</p><p>“You’d be dead.”  Rowan tells him, and Asp knows it’s true.  He’d be dead three times over.  But to be fair, Rowan has at least thirty pounds on him and that’s all muscle.  He lays still under the other man, trying to keep his breathing even.  Rowan shifts closer, and then he grabs Asphodel’s right leg and pulls it up so it’s over Rowan’s left shoulder.  Asp lets himself be manhandled, the exhaustion of their sparring fully hitting him now.  Rowan’s right hand, still holding the knife, comes to rest by Asp’s head.</p><p>“Not a very effective way to help me stretch,” Asp jokes, his voice coming out a bit pitchy.  Rowan rolls his eyes and leans back a little so his weight is mostly on his knees, settled between Asphodel’s legs.  The cotton shorts Asp was wearing when Rowan dragged him out of the penthouse that morning are now riding up his thighs, leaving plenty of exposed skin for Rowan to eye up.  His knife hand raises and Asp’s breath catches when the tip of the blade traces over the inside of his knee, the one next to Rowan’s face.</p><p>Asphodel just watches, knowing that Rowan is going to do what he wants anyway.  The knife trails further up his thigh, not pressing hard enough to draw blood or really do much more than ghost over his skin.  He shudders at the feeling and Rowan stills, his eyes meeting Asp’s.  Then he flicks his wrist and the knife actually does cut through skin, the blade so sharp that Asp doesn’t even realize he’s been cut until the blood starts to well up.  It’s not a deep wound by any means: he knows from experience that the skin of his inner thighs is <em>thin.</em>  He breathes out heavily through his nose.</p><p>“I’m the only one who can get this close to you.”  Rowan tells him, and Asp is fully aware that he’s not talking about their physical closeness so much as he’s talking about fucking killing him.  As if Rowan could ever kill him.  Hurt him, yes.  Asp raises his hips in response, the leg over Rowan’s shoulder digging into the man’s neck.  Rowan grunts, makes another cut.  This one does hurt a little bit, with how close it is to his knee.  He half expects Rowan to lick it off, but he just presses a kiss above it.</p><p>“I wouldn’t let anyone else come near me with a knife,” Asphodel says, and he’s only half joking.  Rowan’s hand, knife included, comes up to Asp’s face and he watches as Asp obediently opens his mouth.  The knife tip presses into his lower lip, just enough to draw a pinprick of blood, and Asp can feel the tension in Rowan’s body as the man physically restrains himself from doing more.  That’s the power Asphodel has here: Rowan will only hurt so much as Asp will allow it, now.  He stares up at Rowan as he sucks his lower lip into his mouth.</p><p>Finally, <em>finally, </em>the tension is broken.  Rowan leans down and Asp gasps as his leg is forced up to his own shoulder with the movement, leaving him completely open for Rowan to grind into.</p><p>“The blood,” Asp manages to warn before Rowan’s kissing him.  The mat is sticky and warm against his back, making his t-shirt ride up as he arches into Rowan’s touch.  He’s half hard from earlier and he can tell Rowan’s fully erect from the way the man is grinding into him.  His cuts sting.  “Wait, let me—”</p><p>Rowan pulls back and makes a disgruntled sound as Asphodel swings his leg off his shoulder, but then he’s pulling his own shorts off and holding his thighs together.  He can see the blood smearing between them, and he waits for Rowan to get the idea.  It doesn’t take long for Rowan to unbuckle his pants, groaning quietly as he maneuvers around Asp’s legs.  They don’t have lube and the blood isn’t exactly enough <em>(or clean, Asp thinks, but he’s out of his head and refuses to think about it)</em>, so Rowan spits onto his hand and uses that to slick his dick before he finally presses between Asphodel’s thighs.</p><p>Fuck, and the head of his dick is just visible when Rowan’s hips are flush with the back of Asp’s legs.  Asphodel throws his head back with a groan when Rowan starts to thrust, one of his arms wrapped around Asp’s legs and the other coming around to fist his dick.  The practice room has fucking terrible acoustics and that’s good because Asp is pretty sure he’d die if he had to hear the sounds they’re making echo around.</p><p>“I’m going to fuck you properly tonight,” Rowan growls, “I’m going to take your pussy apart and you’re going to feel the cuts I gave you—”</p><p>“Shit,” Asphodel can’t buck his hips like this, he’s got no leverage, and he cries out when Rowan’s hand leaves his dick.  “Rowan, sir, <em>please</em>—”</p><p>“You’re going to wait like a good girl.”  As he says it, Rowan shudders and pulls back, stroking himself off as he cums across the backs of Asp’s thighs.  “You can wait.  We aren’t done training, today.”</p><p>Asphodel throws an arm over his eyes and sighs.  Of fucking course not.</p>
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